


a space for us

by onlyinafigurativesense



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Bigender Character, Bigender Psiioniic, Disabled Character, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Manic Episodes, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quadrant Vacillation, Slavery, Trans Character, Young Ancestors (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyinafigurativesense/pseuds/onlyinafigurativesense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> He's so expressive, the way Kurloz was before the accident, and the thought pains you, makes you scrunch your face up and squeeze on his hand, sobbing.</i><br/>"Don't leave me."</p><p>A young psionic copes with loss as best he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> once again the use of capitals in titles evades me  
> also the gender stuff is probably not in-depth but signless & rosa are trans, psii is bigender and kurloz is nb (specifically a demiboy)  
> dont ask me how gamzee is also alive he just is

==> Gamzee Makara: Be **_The Grand Highblood_**

 

You already are The Grand Highblood, but motherfuck if you didn’t wish you all up and weren’t, at least for a minute. Granted, the perks are nice, but the duties that go along with your position are not something that particularly interests you; sitting and listening to other priests and ministers complain about how you run things- or that you really don’t run things at all, which isn’t entirely wrong- isn’t really your forte.

 

You don’t have the attention span for it.

 

Someone clears their throat and you look up, expecting another aging priest from some rural temple, probably dealing with more cannibalism within the church, or something. You're mildly surprised to see your own get standing before you, his unstable psionic moirail trailing behind him, its fingers linked through his. You're pleased to note he hasn't brought his olive whore; although beautiful, she's nowhere near high enough for someone of his standing.

 

He's got a nasty predisposition towards lowbloods.

 

You're not sure how he even managed to let the yellowblooded slave corral him into this blasphemous moirallegiance, given its broken pan- the thing was injured sweeps ago, before the two had settled into their partnership, and it's only gotten more volatile as time has gone on. You had decided at the time to let Kurloz keep it, signing the paperwork over to him and thinking he'd grow tired of it.

 

He hasn't, despite its blood, and even shares a block with it- letting him keep it in the temple alone is borderline heresy, but Kurloz's affection for the thing is downright impious, something that hasn't gone unnoticed by the rest of your brethren.

 

That's what he's here about now, it seems. As he prattles on you gather that one of the lower priestesses, newly ordained, saw fit to question where he'd chosen to lay his pale affections, and Kurloz, self-centered brat, took offense. You let him talk, but gesture for his moirail to join you on your dais.

 

It doesn't dare refuse you.

 

You quickly grow bored of listening to Kurloz and busy yourself with preening his palemate's hair, your fingers trailing along the bumps of its spine. It's scarred and skinny and flinches each time you touch it, trembling under your hands. You bump its hornbeds with your fingertips and it tries to jerk away from you, but you catch it by the horn, making it whimper.It pulls away from you and you give it a warning growl. It doesn't stop, though, tugging at your grip and sparking, its bifurcated tongue visible when it hisses at you. The disrespect wounds you more than the sparks and you close your fingers around its throat, squeezing.

 

It shakes its head, claws scrabbling against the back of your hand.

"Thttt- Don't," it pleads, gasping.

 

You grin and snap the thing's neck with barely a twitch of your fingers. It lets out a shocked noise and Kurloz freezes, stopping mid-tirade.

 

You remove your hand, letting the body drop off the dais with a soft thud before you stand, stretching and turning to leave. You hear Kurloz make a broken noise behind you, and the muffled crack of bone against tile as he falls to his knees with a tortured cry.

 

"What did you do?" he shrieks after you, "What did you do?"

 

You turn around, snarling. "What I should have done sweeps ago. That thing- that freak- should have been culled before it left the caverns."

 

"He's not a freak!" he screams, clinging to the body as though if he holds it tight enough to his own chest the thing's own bloodpusher might start pumping its yellow filth through its veins again. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

 

You observe him with a cold gaze, unfazed by his tantrum.

 

"I can assure you, brother, it didn't feel no motherfucking pain," you say cooly.

 

He gives you a murderous glare, roaring. "You treacherous motherfucker, I'll-"

 

You growl low in your throat, sending him a warning, and he cows momentarily, curling around the body like he's trying to shield it from you. He sobs, his face buried in the psionic's wild hair, his tormented wails savagely assaulting your aural sponges. You press your fingers to your temples, gritting your teeth.

 

"Listen to me, boy, we can get you another," you say, practically shouting in order to hear yourself over the fit he's throwing.

 

He growls, snarling and gnashing his teeth at you.

"Don't you dare, you blasphemous motherfucker, I'll rip your throat out with my teeth and-"

 

You're on him in a moment, the backhand you give him sending him sprawling across the floor. He howls, ignoring the blood flowing freely from his nose as he tries to scramble back to the body of his dead pet.

You kick it away from him, grabbing him by the shoulder and holding him up in front of you. He lashes out with his claws but you catch his wrists, holding him tight.

 

"Such a shame, to spill such pretty blood over a slave," you say, your voice dangerously soft.

 

 

You wipe the blood from his face with your thumb and he snarls, his teeth clacking together just millimeters from your finger.

You frown, growling as you press your thumb into the rapidly blossoming bruise on his cheekbone. He jerks away from your touch, whimpering, still trying to pull himself out of your hold.

 

"Little one," you warn, tightening your hand around his wrists, "You better shape the motherfuck up before I feed you to the priestesses. You know they always looking for a sacrilegious motherfucker to make a miraculous motherfucking offering out of."

 

He bares his teeth and you grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open. He writhes in your grip, head bucking wildly in an attempt to get away, but he doesn't bite down on your fingers like you know he wants to. You push them into his mouth roughly and he gags, violet tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He whimpers, shaking his head and you take your fingers away, tossing him to the ground.

 

He sputters and coughs, chest heaving as he attempts to pick himself up off the floor.

"You promised," he croaks hoarsely, "You promised he'd be safe with us."

 

Your lip curls and you press the heel of your boot into the small of his back, pushing him back to the floor.

"You'd do best to all up and forget about your broken little fucktoy, my brother," you say quietly, grinding your heel into his back. "The thing ain't worth all these irreverent histrionics, my miraculous child."

 

He sobs, his hands clutching at the stone tiles of the floor as you dig your foot between his shoulder blades.

"Kill me," he moans, "just kill me, please."

 

You stomp on his ribs and hear something snap, his entire body seizing up as he retches, blood frothing at the corner of his mouth.

"This impiety will not stand," you snarl, kicking him onto his back. "And you'd best motherfuckin' realize that you ain't gonna be doing much standing neither until you get your goddamn act together."

 

He gurgles, his fingers twitching against his stomach. Indigo leaks from his mouth, eyes, nose, spilling onto his bare chest and pooling on the tile beneath him. You watch him lie there, trembling and weeping, and shake your head. "Pathetic," you spit, nudging his side with the toe of your boot. He cries out, screwing his eyes shut.

 

You move to kick him again but stop, distracted by a noise behind you. You look over your shoulder to see the psionic's horns sparking, its fingertips twitching despite the macabre angle of its broken neck. You chuckle low in your throat, picking Kurloz up by the scruff of his neck.

 

"Look, little one, your whore ain't given up yet," you taunt, shoving him forward.

 

He stumbles, falling to the floor and scrambling toward the body, one hand pressed to his side as he leans over it. You watch, disgusted as he whispers to it, running his fingers through its hair and clasping the thing's hand in his own, pressing their intertwined fingers to his paint-smeared cheek.

 

You scowl at their blasphemous display, turning on your heel.

 

"Clean this shit up once it's dead."

 

You leave him there, not seeing the tears that cut purple tracks through his paint, not hearing his mumbled apologies to it, calling its name over and over.

"Mituna," he moans, and you twitch, a sharp pain slicing through your pan. "Mituna, please, wake up-"

 

His voice is wrong, there's something wrong, _your pan is killing you_ \--

 

He calls your name again and you curl in on yourself, slamming the heels of your hands against your eyes, pressing hard in a backwards attempt to relieve the pressure in your head, oh god, your head-

  


You jerk awake with a strangled cry, a dry sob catching in your throat, your mouth and eyes and nose leaking sticky, translucent fluids as you dig your claws into your scalp. You can hear someone calling your name still, and suddenly Kankri is there, all soft voice and gentle words, telling you to hush, that it's alright now.

 

"Shhh, Mituna, it was a dream, we've got you, you're safe," you hear him say, and you barely understand the garbled words coming out of your mouth but you raise your arms and he helps you sit up, careful hands avoiding your head-face-horns-eyes like he knows what will set you off (he does know, he insists on knowing, refuses to touch you without asking).

 

Meulin- that's who you're lying against, you realize, her skin soft and good smelling and a few degrees cooler than yours and Kankri's- coos at you, letting you nuzzle into her rumble spheres, ignoring your sparking horns as she holds you.

 

She whispers something to Kankri and he starts to stand, freezing when you chirp in alarm, shaking your head violently.

 

He kneels beside you, letting you cup his face in your hand, leaning into your touch.

"Mituna," he says gently, "Mituna, you need water. Meulin is going to stay here with you while I go get it, okay?"

 

You make a distressed noise, grinding your teeth. "Thhht," you manage, but everything that comes out after that is nonsense, the noise in your head too much for you to filter through.

 

He laces his fingers through yours, eyebrows pinching together the way they always do when he's worried. He's so expressive, the way Kurloz was before the accident, and the thought pains you, makes you scrunch your face up and squeeze on his hand, sobbing.

"S-stay," you lisp, your voice cracking, "Don't leave me, I need-"

 

Your horns spark and you groan, the smell of ozone and burning hair filling the tent.

 

"K-Kurloz," you beg, and you feel Meulin shoot Kankri a look.

 

He presses his lips together, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're safe now," he repeats, and you nod, because you know.

 

"I need," you start to say, but your tongue sticks in your mouth and you frown.

 

"Water?" Kankri asks, and you nod again.

 

He stands and you sag against Meulin, shivering.

Your eyes slip shut as she strokes your hair, and by the time Kankri returns you're half asleep. Meulin helps you turn around, letting you lean back against her ample chest as Kankri brings the cup to your lips, tipping water into your mouth. You drink greedily, downing as much as he'll let you before he takes it away, setting it beside your shared pile and climbing back in with you and Meulin. You curl up against her, tucking your face into the crook of her neck as Kankri watches over you from her other side, propped up on one elbow.

 

His eyebrows are doing the pinching thing again.

 

You reach out to him, linking your bony fingers through his stout ones. "M'okay," you tell him. "Safe."

He gives you a gentle smile, kissing your knuckles. "Yes," he whispers.

  


You're asleep in moments.


	2. Chapter 2

==> Mituna: Be the _**Mage of Heart**_

 What?

  
Mituna can't be the Mage of Heart, because _you're_ the Mage of Heart. You're not even sure what that means, actually, but you’re pretty sure that when it comes to matters of heart, you're the one who should be in charge.

  
Your name is Meulin Leijon, and, as previously mentioned, you are just ~the best~ when it comes to heart stuff. You have this kind of innate sense of who goes with who and how they fit together, and you just LOVE when it works out, which it always does.

  
You throw a glance over to where Mituna is laying in yours and Kankri's pile and frown.  


Maybe... Maybe "almost always" is more accurate.

 

Poor Mituna. He's older than your sweet Kankitty, but every time you look at him, you're hit with this urge to take him in your arms and keep him safe from anything and everything that could ever hurt him. It's weird, and it makes you wonder if this is how Purrim feels about Kankri, but really, you can't help it!

 

Mituna is just so _small_.

 

He grunts in his sleep, rolling over and stretching, and you amend your thought. He's almost as tall as Purrim- he's skinny, not small, all sharp points of bone wrapped in a big tangle of limbs and sparks, each bump of his spine visible under his scarred skin.

Looking at all the scars on him makes you want to dismember whoever put them there, but...

You know some are from himself.

He's got these funny ones all around his eyes and hornbeds from the sparks that come off him when he's upset- you've got matching ones on your left rumblesphere from the first night you found him.  


It wasn't that long ago, really, but yours have already healed up almost entirely. You can only see them in certain light now.

 

You kind of like them.

  
It's strange to think that it's only been about a perigree since you stumbled upon Mituna, face down on the ground and only half conscious. The city you were passing through was notorious for being a hub for the local slave trade, and finding a half-dead troll on the outskirts of a slave market didn't exactly make it hard to piece together what had happened.

Mituna... doesn't really like to talk about it.

Sometimes you'll catch him fingering the purple brand tattooed on his chest and crying.

It makes you want to cry, too.

 

Kankri ducks into the tent, smelling like incense and campfire smoke. He gives your forehead a quick kiss.  
"Has he woken up yet?" he asks quietly.

 

You shake your head. "Not since the last time Purrim came in."

 

He nods. "Good. He needs the rest."

 

He strokes your hair and you lean into his touch, purring quietly. "How did your sermon go?"

 

He sighs, pressing his lips together. You frown. "That bad, huh?"

 

He shrugs, shaking his head. "No more or less than we expected," he says, but there's a note of sadness to his voice. "I had only hoped..."

 

You nod, patting the side of his face. "I'm just glad you made it out safe."

 

He laughs quietly, but it's not a happy laugh. "No one even bothered to try and run us off this time," he says, staring at Mituna's prone figure. You lean into him and he hooks his arm around your waist.

 

Your pump flutters in your chest. You're never going to get used to that.  


You nuzzle at him, and decide you don't want to.

 

Mituna mumbles something in his sleep, curling up with a small sigh, and Kankri smiles.  
"I think if, half a sweep ago, someone had told me that I'd end up sharing a pile with two of the most beautiful trolls I've ever seen, I would have thought them mad," he says, shaking his head.

 

You grin, wiggling. "I knew you liked him! I knew it."

 

He blushes. "I can think he's beautiful without being flushed for him, love."

 

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, but you can also do both," you say. "Besides! He likes you back, so there's no reason for either of you to keep dancing around each other the way you do. Just tell him!"

 

Kankri's gaze wanders over Mituna's body, and you feel him shift uncomfortably underneath you. "I..."

 

You tilt your head, clambering into his lap. "What?" you ask, taking his face in your hands.

 

He shakes his head, his hand resting on the small of your back. "I do... Have feelings for him. Strong ones, but-"  
  
You squeal and throw your arms around him, almost knocking him over. "I knew it I knew it I knew it!" you exclaim, and he shushes you, pressing a finger to your lips. You nip at his hand playfully and he scowls, tugging at your bangs in retaliation. You hiss, albeit playfully, while he wrestles you back into his lap and gives you a stern look.

 

You smooch him.

  
He snorts and pushes you away, laughing. "Behave yourself, wild thing," he scolds, but he's smiling broadly.

 

You lean back, exposing your tummy and giving him your most innocent look.  
It's... Not particularly successful. You can almost _feel_ your eyes twinkling mischievously.

 

He rests his forehead against yours, his tiny horns nudging your larger ones. You purr and he clicks back at you quietly, kissing your nose and cheek.

 

"God, you two are dithguthting."

 

You both turn to see Mituna rubbing his eyes blearily, propped up on his elbow. He yawns, sharp teeth glinting as they catch the light.  
  
Kankri blushes, sitting up and clearing his throat. "My apologies, Mituna, we-"

 

Mituna huffs. "Calm down, Vantath, I don't give a fuck. Honethtly you two could be over there with her sheathe-deep in your nook and I wouldn't care. I'm not thome unpailed wriggler whoth never theen a bulge before."

 

Kankri turns bright red. "Mituna!" he scolds, and you burst into a fit of giggles. Mituna's laugh joins yours for a moment before it turns hoarse, breaking into a deep cough as he clutches his chest, cheeks flushed yellow. You climb out of Kankri's lap and he rushes to Mituna's side, kneeling next to him. Mituna clings to him, shoulders heaving with each hacking cough.

"Sh-shit," he rasps, holding onto Kankri tightly. "Th-thorry, I-"

 

Kankri shushes him, wiping away the wetness gathered under Mituna's eyes. "It's fine, you needn't apologize," he says, rubbing Mituna's back soothingly.

 

Mituna takes a few deep breaths, leaning against Kankri's shoulder for support. "Thorry," he says again, and Kankri looks stricken.

 

You know exactly what that look means. You lean forward, tugging at his shirt. "Kankitty, Purrrrrim is calling you," you say.

 

He tilts his head, ears twitching. "I didn't hear-"

 

Mituna raises an eyebrow, and you return it. He nudges the underside of Kankri's chin with his horns.  
"I wath coughing, it'th no wonder you couldn't hear over all that racket," he says. "I heard her, though. ML ith right." When Kankri still hesitates, he rolls his eyes, giving him a more forceful horn bump. "I'm fine, KK, get outta here."

 

"Are you sure?" Kankri asks, cupping Mituna's face in his hand.

 

Mituna nods. "Of courth. Look, I know you probably wanna thtay, what with me half naked and clinging to you and thtuff, but-"

 

Kankri flushes pink all the way to the tips of his ears. "That is certainly not why-"

 

"Can it, KK, we all know you want my bulgeth, it'th not even a quethtion at this point," Mituna says, and you nod.

 

"Yes! Oh my gosh, you two are just purrfect, really, Kankri you should-"

 

"Should really get your ath out to Porrim," Mituna says, cutting you off. "She's probably not thuper pleathed about having to wait, y'know?"

 

"Oh!" Kankri scrambles to his feet. "You're right, of course. Goodness, I suppose I have kept her waiting, haven't I? How careless of me, I should..."  
He kisses the tip of your horn quickly before ducking out of the tent, calling for Porrim.

 

Mituna turns to you expectantly.  
"I athume you wanted to talk?"

 

You shake your head, curls bouncing. "No! I wanted to listen, silly."

 

His face twists and you sigh, scooting closer to him. You pat your thigh.

 

He tilts his head.

 

You roll your eyes, holding your arms out. "Come here! I want to cuddle you, duh!"

 

He hesitates. "Um, ithn't that kind of you and KK'th thing? Like, ath matethprith and all?"

 

You nod emphatically, clapping your hands together. "Yes! But also, it's _really_ totally clear that you two are like, made for each other! And if you and him are going to be a thing then I'm DEFINITELY involved, since, you know, me and him are like, a unit. Also, I mostly just want to pet your hair. Come here!"

 

You pat your lap again, and Mituna looks away, an uncomfortable whine humming in the back of his throat."I... I um. Don't. I mean, if you thay I have to, then I gueth I can..?"  
He looks unsure, his forehead wrinkled.

 

You gasp, pressing your hands to your mouth. "Oh gosh, Mituna, I'm so sorry! I totally forgot about the touching thing, you know you don't have to, right? Like, it's totally cool if you don't want to sit in my lap or have your hair petted, ugh, that was really out of line, Kankri would give me the _worst_ tongue-lashing if he-"

 

You stop, because Mituna is coughing again- at least, you think he's coughing, until he looks up, his snaggletooth grin splitting his face.  
"Ehehehehe. What kind of tongue-lashing?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

 

"Oh! You little-" you resist the urge to tacklepounce him, sticking your tongue out instead. "You're gross."

 

He nudges you with his elbow, cackling. "I'm tho right though, don't even deny it. Pretty thure you two get it on more than me and- and-"

There's a popping noise and his horns spark. He whimpers, ducking his head.

"Hhhgh- h- shit, I-"

 

"Mituna!" you say, taking his face in your hands. He jerks away, hissing.

 

"Don't touch me, you wh-whor-"  
He whimpers again, holding his head in his hands and sparking violently. "Meulin, pleathe-"

 

"Should I get Kankri?" you ask. "I'll get him, hold on-"

 

He grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. "No, I don't- thtay. Pleathe? Don't bother him, he'th-th..."

 

His eyelids flutter, the sparks flying from his horns fizzling out as he sags. He pitches forwards and you catch hold of him before he can fall, letting him lean against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder.  
"Mituna? Mituna, can you hear me?"

 

You give him a gentle shake and he groans, mumbling something. You tip his head up, cradling him in your arms. "Mituna, I can't understand you. Speak up, c'mon, do you want Kankri?"

 

He blinks his eyes open, the colors brighter than usual as he slurs out a response. "Kur...l. Please. Where...th?"

 

You press your lips together, pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. His eyes close.

 

"Mituna, honey, I don't know what you're asking me for. I know you said you didn't want Kankri but I don't know what to do."

You can feel desperation creeping into your voice, panic rising in your chest as he continues to babble, his vowels dragging as he speaks.

 

"Waaant. Mngh. My Kurloz. Wherethhh he?" His voice hitches on the last word, pitching up slightly. He sits up a little, blinking rapidly as he looks around. You keep hold of him in case he wavers again, but he doesn't seem bothered by your touch.

 

"...Mituna?" You ask quietly. His head snaps around to look at you.

 

"Meulin," he says. It's not a question.

 

"Yes," you say, letting out a relieved sigh. "Yes, honey, it's me. Are you back with me?"

 

He nods, slowly, his eyes fixed on you. "Where'th Kurloz?" he asks again.

 

You watch him carefully, trying to gauge his response. "Kurloz isn't here, Tuna. You had to- you had to leave, remember?"

 

He shakes his head. "No. No, he needth me, I have to- have to go back."

 

You frown, worrying your lip with your fangs. "Mituna, he was... He said you had to go," you say, trying to phrase things as gently as possible. "He wanted you to go somewhere else."

 

He shakes his head, hard, his eyes teary. "No!" he says, almost shouting now. "No, he wanted- he thaid thtay. He thaid..."

 

Mituna takes a deep breath, hiccuping. "Thaid. Thtay here with me. I thaid, yeth. The Highblood-"

 

He stops, going quiet. His lip quivers.

 

You lean forward, tucking one of the longer pieces of his bangs behind his ear. "Mituna?" you ask quietly. "Mituna, do you remember what happened? Why you had to leave?"

 

He nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He bites down, sobbing. "Made me leave. Made me- made me leave Kurloz."

 

You nod. "Yes. Kurloz sold you, and- wait, what?"

 

He sniffles, tears welling up in his eyes. "Didn't want to. Didn't want-" He sucks in a shaky breath, wiping his eyes roughly. "Wanted to thtay. I need-"

 

You stare at him. "Mituna. Mituna, look at me. I need you to tell me what happened, please. I think it's important."

 

You stroke his cheek, wiping away a few stray tears as he shakes his head.

 

"No. Don't want to. Hurtth."

  
You nod, struggling to keep your voice steady. "Okay. That's okay, you don't have to. Can you tell me about Kurloz, then?"

 

It takes a second for him to collect himself, but he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I can-" he coughs, his shoulders trembling. "Kurloz is. Big. And he keepth me thafe and helpth me when my head ith hurting and..."

 

You pet his hair, smoothing it out of his face, and he calms considerably, closing his eyes and pressing into your hand. "Was he your...?"

You hesitate, not sure how to ask.

  
"Moirail," he says, confirming your suspicions. He looks up at you, eyes watery. "I can't-"

 

You shush him, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your neck, shuddering as he weeps into your shoulder. You rub his back, murmuring to him. "Shhh, shhhh, it's okay, we've got you. You'll be okay, honey, don't worry. It's okay."

 

There's a flurry of motion as someone yanks the tent flap open. Porrim and Kankri appear in the entryway, and Kankri stares at you, confusion written plain across his features. "We heard shouting, we thought-"

 

You shake your head, shushing him as you hold Mituna close, your fingers woven into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You motion for them to shoo and Porrim nods, placing her hand on Kankri's shoulder and guiding him back out of the tent. He throws you a glance over his shoulder and you shake your head, mouthing /we'll talk later/ at him before shooing him again.

 

You sit with Mituna for a few more minutes, letting him cry as you rub his back with one hand, the other massaging the base of his skull where his hair is shortest. He shivers and you shift, helping him lay down so you can tug the blankets up over him. He catches your hand in his, holding it tightly. You let him, kneeling next to his head.

"I'm thttt. Thorry. I got you all wet."

 

You smile, stroking his hair. "It's fine, Mituna. I'll dry out."

 

He gives you a wheezy laugh. "I can- I can ficth that."

 

You chuckle, and he leans his cheek into your hand, closing his eyes. "Kankri doethn't know," he says.

 

"No," you affirm, and he sighs.

 

"I'll- I want to tell him. Later. Or..." He scrunches his face up, his eyebrows knitting together. "I want to. Excthplain. Okay? But you can tell him."

 

You nod. "Okay. Later, though."

  
He nods, exhaling through his nose. "I'm tired."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah."

He rolls onto his side, snuggling into the pile and tugging the blanket closer around him. "Will you... shit, ith it okay if I athk you to thleep with me?"

 

You climb into the pile next to him, pulling him against your chest. "Of course."

 

"Will Kankri mind?" he asks, and he asks so quietly and meekly that you almost laugh.

 

"Oh, honey, no," you say, nuzzling at him. "He'll probably want to join."

 

Mituna laughs, all scratchy and quiet. "He'th welcome to. Goddamn."

 

You grin, bumping your forehead against his. "Ooh, I knew it. I just-"

 

He shushes you, tucking his head under your chin, his skinny arms wrapping around your waist. "I know," he says. "It'th cool. You can tell him that, too."

  
You shift closer to him. "Nah. I'll let you two hash that out for yourselves."

 

Mituna groans. "Ugh, the one time I actually WANT you to do thith shit..."

He shakes his head. "Whatever. I gueth I can..." He yawns.

  
"You can sleep for now. Hush."

 

He nods, a rough purr starting in his chest. You trill in response, and kiss the top of his head, right between his horns.You fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

"You were in my dream, you know."

 

She looks up, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. "What?" she asks.

 

You blink, twice. "You were. Well, you weren't in it. But Kurl- um. In my dream, you and him were."

You squint, feel your face screw up all ugly as you try and sort out the words.

You bite your tongue.

 

She tilts her head, her massive mane of hair flopping over to one side.

"We were...?" she asks, motioning for you to continue.

 

You squeeze one eye shut. "Ehhh- you and him. You were a thing."

 

She snorts, shaking her head and going back to her drawing. "I don't think I could be pitch for someone like him. Kankri and I are already-"

 

"You weren't," you blurt out, and her head whips up to look at you.

 

"What?" she asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut again. Once, twice.

 

"You weren't pitch," you say, slurring a little. "Red. Flushed, you were- flushed."

 

She blinks, then her eyes go wide and she makes a sort of- you guess it's a hiss? It's pretty close to one.

"That's- no, that couldn't happen," she's saying, shaking her head violently. Her cheeks are flushed olive and she's sitting up a lot straighter, her grip on the pen she's holding so tight that her knuckles are almost white. "I could never. Not when Kankri- not ever."

 

Your ears flick down, pressing against your skull.

"He wasn't there," you explain. "Neither of you were, really, but in the dream thing you and Krrl- Kurlz-"

You stop, flaring your nostrils and huffing out a short breath.

"Kurloz. You and Kurloz were flushed in the dream and I was- not me. The Grand Highbulge was pissed about it."

 

She snorts, shaking her head at her book.

"I wonder why," she says, and it takes you a moment to catch the bitterness behind her words. You scoot closer to her, bumping your forehead against the side of her head.

 

"Wasn't real," you offer, and she sighs, setting down her book and pen. She turns to face you, holding her hands out to you, palms up- you realize she's asking for permission to touch you, and you nod. She takes your face in her hands, stroking your hair out of your face. It's getting long, long enough that your bangs fall in your eyes sometimes and make it harder to see.

Maybe you should get Porrim to cut it.

You lean into Meulin's hands, humming low in the back of your throat and closing your eyes. It's weird to you how easy it is to let her touch you.

It's different from Kankri. You _crave_ his touch, each brush of his skin on yours feeling like your body is lit up with sparks, the feeling of his chest pressed to your back making your pump skip a beat.

You wonder, briefly, if he's ever noticed.

 

"He hasn't," Meulin says irritably, and you jump, sparking a little as you jerk away from her hands. She hisses, though not at you, and yanks her hand back. "Ow!"

 

You blink rapidly, leaning forward to grab her wrist so you can inspect her hand. There's minimal damage, but there's definitely a small lattice of burn marks spreading from her knuckles back towards her wrist.

"Shit, sorry-" you start, but she shakes her head, waving you off with the hand you didn't burn.

 

"It's fine, Mituna, it's okay," she says, wincing a little and pulling her hand away. "You didn't mean it. Did I startle you?"

 

You nod, slowly, folding your ears down. "Forgot."

 

She gives you a sympathetic smile, reaching for you. You freeze, gritting your teeth, but she just pets at your cheek, smoothing out your eyebrow with her thumb. You whine.

"Oh," she says, eyes wide, "is this-"

 

"It's fine," you say quickly. "I just don't want to-"

 

"Spark me," she finishes, nodding. She smiles. "I trust you. And they don't hurt that bad when it's an accident."

 

You furrow your brow, shaking your head. "I would never-" you start to say, but she shushes you.

 

"I know," she say gently. "It's okay."

 

You believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is. Short  
> And also old  
> I gotta tho


End file.
